Eagle Feathers and Cowboy Hats
by Kmochaccino
Summary: Half breed, shit mix, worthless. All her life white men called Lenora Silver Creek every name under the sun, but she never let their taunts get to her. Living in her quite village, she was accepted more so by the Lakota people than anyone else, and she was even betrothed to a kind hearted young man, but disaster stuck and her world was turned upside down. T, may become M.
1. The Storm

The rain lashed across her face, cutting deep into her caramel skin, yet she hardly felt the icy needles. Her pale green eyes were focused on delicate, shaking hands, not on the worsening weather. Behind her, the deep groan of thunder rolled across the looming black clouds, and a brief flash of light illuminated the lock she attempted to pick.

Still shivering, her long black hair plastered to the side of her face, she glanced up quickly, fear lacing her eyes like the drugs she had slipped into the guards whiskey. He had been easy to manipulate, and she was fairly certain he had been the only man posted, but she couldn't risk being caught. Not now, not when she was so close.

The muffled noises of hooves in the fresh pine barn urged her on. She felt as if she were a green colt, the noises of the captive horses acting as foreign spurs, plunging again and again into the soft flesh of her sides. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she half whispered to the horses, half to to herself.

She felt the lock click softly in her grasp, unable to hear the satisfying sound above the storm. Tossing it to the side along with the thin scrap of wire she had used to release it, she flung ope. The double doors, relishing in the responsive way the new hinges swung effortlessly away from her. Another stroke of lightning spasmed across the inky sky, illuminating the dark belly of the barn for a heartbeat.

Nestled inside, restless and unsure of their surroundings, stood dozens of horses. Many had been branded, their manes roached, tails banged and spirits shattered, but there were still a good many who had yet to taste the blacksmith's cruel calloused hands. Subconsciously, her hand traveled across her breast bone, traveling the long scar that ran from her neck, between her breasts and to her navel. She wouldn't allow any more pain, she couldn't.

Shaking her head, she jogged down the aisle, peering into packed stalls with dismay. They were kept too tightly, none of the horses could move properly, get a drink or a bite to eat. They were the rejects, the ones no one wanted. One mare looked about ready to burst, her barrel was distended with her unborn colt, yet her bones jutted out, cutting her skin away. The women closed her eyes in disgust, the mare had obviously been here longer than some of the others.

A small crash just ahead of her made the woman stop, her eyes widening in terror. No one was supposed to be here! She had taken care of the guards, one still sleeping off the effects of his fire water, the other sleeping off the effects of, well, she cut her thoughts off there, not wanting those images to re enter her mind just then.

Glancing from side to side she searched desperately for a place to hide, finally ducking into a stall filled to a bursting point with two full sized stallions and a dejected looking mule gelding standing between them. She slipped between the mule and one of the studs, a big grey with a roman nose and a soft eye. Lifting her finger to her lips in an attempt to ward off the animals curious nudges, she sank into the foul smelling ground, holding back the bile rising in the back of her mouth.

A long shadow danced across the walls, illuminated by the flickering candle held by whom ever was walking past. They had to know that someone was in the barn, she had left the doors flung wide, hoping to be in and out before anyone noticed. That plan had gone straight to hell.

Standing slightly once the shadow had past, she started forwards to see who it was that had drove a stake through the thigh of her escape, and where they had gotten to. Beside her, the mule shuffled his hooves, not enjoying her company as much as the curious grey, who kept nudging her, unaware of his size and ability to toss her around like a rag doll. So far however, the far red stud with a missing eye paid her no mind, as if he didn't actually know she was there, though his ever active ears, fixed on her general movements suggested otherwise.

Not paying attention to the horses for a moment, she was caught off guard when the grey pushed his rounded nose into her chest, knocking her backwards into the grumpy mule before she could catch herself. She knew what was happening as it occurred, but there was nothing she could do but wait for it to end.

Not enjoying her company whatsoever anymore, the mule squealed, laying his hind legs into the back wall of the stall, gliding past her ear, clipping the top and leaving a welling wound. She sucked in a gasp as the crown of her left ear was shorn off and landed with a soft plop in the musty, damp straw beneath her.

Seemingly roused by the commotion, both studs skittered in the stall, iron hooves pounding into the ground all about her. One clipped her shoulder, and another caught a glancing blow to her lower back, yet she managed to stay alert, right up to the point when she glanced upwards and saw the man staring down at her.

It was then that the damnable mule lashed out again, his hoof grazing her head, turning the world black.


	2. Suspicion

The sounds of dripping water woke her, and she slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the light flikering through the small window. Blinking a few times, she tried to prop herself up on her arms, but a sharp pain shot through her head, slamming her back onto the pillow.

It was then that she realized that she was in a bed, a lumpy, uncomfortable bed, but a bed nonetheless. Again she struggled up, this time realizing that she was restrained by her wrists and despite the pain in her head, she jerked around, driven by the terror coursing through her veins.

"Shhhh stop moving, you'll just hurt yourself more," the voice behind her was rough and scratched, but it was low and calming. Even still, she wrenched her hands against the ropes that bound them, startled by the noise.

A hand on her shoulder was even more disturbing, but she managed to contain her panic, forced to stare away from her captor. As if reading her thoughts, his hand moved from her shoulder down to her hands, where he began to untie her, talking all the while.

"You have to promise not to try and escape now. I'm a much better option than what you would find outside right now," his face came into view as he looked at her for some sort of conformation that she would remain on the lumpy cot.

She blinked and inclined her head ever so slightly, knowing what he was referring to, and preferring imprisonment in the stable as opposed to what waited for her in the compound. Her mouth did not move however, in speech nor emotion, and the man who cut her free seemed to know that she wasn't about to talk to him.

When she was at last free, she sat up slowly, looking around and rubbing her wrists. Her back pressed up against the chinked pine wall, she saw the source of the dripping water that had brought her to conciseness. A small hole in the middle of the roof leaked rain water into a tin bucket, making a harsh ringing noise. Watching the pure liquid fall, she unwittingly licked her lips, aware suddenly of a need for even a drop of water.

Again however, the young man seemed to be two steps ahead of her, passing over a buffalo leather canteen, sloshing rain water onto her hands as she hurriedly grabbed it and lifted it up to her lips. As the moisture brushed her lips however, she forced herself to stop, her brown eyes lifting to the slightly worried face of her captor, though the title didn't seem to fit him.

He met her gaze, his own eyes as emerald as the spring ranges, confusion at her pause glinting back at her. Slowly, she handed the canteen back to him, crossing her arms almost in challenge, eyes never wavering.

"Really? Why would I poison you?" His words seemed harsh, but his tone soft, and he took the water anyways, taking a deep gulp from it. "See? Not dead." He smirked a little and handed it back.

Grabbing it with barely contained haste, swallowing the remaining water as fast as she could. When the last drop touched her tongue, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and handed the canteen back to the soldier.

He waved it away however, "Keep it," he gave no reason for the gift, but she hugged it to her chest anyways, suspicion still lingering on her tanned face however.

For a long while, she sat and watched as he tidied the small room they occupied, but when he pulled a rifle from underneath a stained shirt she dropped the canteen, sinking away from him and grabbing at her hip for a knife that was missing from its sheath. Panic filled her as she looked down, hand still groping for the blade and finding nothing but a hard leather belt.

Looking up again, she saw that he was watching her with amusement, no longer holding the gun, but her bone handled knife instead. "I had to make sure you weren't going to kill me as soon as you had a chance," he placed it onto a small wooden table but kept it close to himself, not yet trusting that should wouldn't slit his throat, and she didn't blame him. If he did slide it over she would certainly try.


End file.
